


sensational high, sensational low

by intoxicatelou



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean Winchester Angst, First Time, Frottage, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Pre-Series, Pre-Stanford, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, codependent assholes, queer! sam, slight mention of - Freeform, underage bc sam is 17 when dean is 21
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:49:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7380643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoxicatelou/pseuds/intoxicatelou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam never told anyone, but the night he left, Dean asked him to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sensational high, sensational low

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zetal (Rodinia)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rodinia/gifts).



> wrote this for queer sam anon week ! it's been a blast hope you like this, first time ever writing for this fandom so pls be nice. i am a New. come talk to me on tumblr, i'm intoxicatelou :)
> 
> apologize for all errors, bc i didn't have a beta and i wrote this in like the first few hours of a sunday morning/afternoon and didn't even shower just WROTE, so excuse me i beg you. 
> 
> title is from the song Swoon by Beach Weather which is very wincest song so listen to it and cry. 
> 
> for more wincest song listen to my spotify mix that me and breck made to specifically get hecked up over these boyz and that helped me write this fic -  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/armeeyah/playlist/0m0DxsojDMmCbM3kZ8f2aO

Sam never told anyone, but the night he left, Dean asked him to stay.

 

They’d crashed into bed, yet after another argument, because that’s what Brothers do, Dean had snarked, and Sam, as always, went along with it. He didn’t want to fight, though, not tonight, so he let Dean swallow the liquor, and whatever they had left of each other.Sam stood there, mouth dry, as he looked at his big brother’s neck, the stretch of it all heat and and home.Dean watched Sam watch him, licked his lips around the damn beer bottle, because he’s drunk and he can, and it’s worth it to give Sammy what he wants.Doesn’t deserve it of course,Sam deserves so much better and Dean’s known this since he nursed his brother with his own fingers, since that night -But this, this tension, it’s the closest thing to a truce they have. 

 

But Sam hated the shivers his brother put in him, hated the physical reaction he couldn’t control, hated wanting to burn. Dean gave him a look cool as ice, an apology of unsaid words, and Sam turned around to pull his own jeans off, still feeling the fire ice gaze on his back.He climbed underneath the cover, trying to play it off, but his hands shook as Dean got ready to join him. God, he wanted. 

 

Dean was all pleasure and silence, and Sam’s heartbeat was all noise, screaming in his chest,morse code for fuck me fuck me fuck me so i won’t go, i know it won’t mean anything but i just wanna taste long enough to get hooked again, I’m so tired Dean, I’m so tired, give me something to smile abou.

 

Dean had been drunk for the past three days, and sometimes Sam wishes they could be different, that tonight of all nights, he could have his big brother back. 

 

It’d hurt, of course. It always hurtwhen Dean acted like he didn’t give a fuck,only to pull Sam close underneath the motel sheets, their legs tangled like their roots, bodies so close to kissing but never quite there. Sam had tried to pull away but could never make it far enough. He should’ve known then. In this line of business, everything was agoddamn sign. 

 

So like always, Sam succumbed to Dean’s sugar appetite. Let his brother claim his territory, never put up a goddamn fight over the soft stares and the rough gentle touches, let Dean take what he gave Sam in the morning.Dean would die for Sam, and this, this blood intimacy, never-will-be talked-about connection,they have, well this is the least Sam can do. 

 

Don’t get him wrong, Sam doesn’t mind, Sam craves it just as much as Dean needs it but that’s where the difference lies - you don’t talk about what you need, but desire has a loud mouth and Sam’s gotta bite back his groans every single night. Silence is suffocating, but Dean is so beautiful in the moonlight that Sam decides it's a more than fair trade ; the oxygen in his lungs for the flutter of dean's eyelashes on his collarbone, peaceful. In their line of work seeing his brother this calm is a damn miracle. so Sam focuses his entire energy on making sure he isn’t dreaming about Dean, isn’t dreaming about the hard line of his brother against his rough edges, about them together, finally gasping the truth in a world full of lies. Sam focuses on not wanting him, because all he truly should want is to want nothing. 

 

+

 

Sam remembers high school like a mosaic of motel rooms and Dean. 

 

He remembers looking up to Dean and then sprouting till he was taller than his big brother and the green of Dean’s eyes in his shadow. He thinks how much deeper they felt now that he was looking down. But don’t let size fool you, all Sam ever wanted was to fit underthe curve of his brother’s arm, and he still fought for that spot, despite the appearance of his long limbs. There were some things Sam knew were just his, and Dean was one of them. 

 

In school, he’d keep his head down, laugh when he needed to at lunch, get the grades that made Dean smile extra wide - “sammy, you’re so smart, so goddamn proud of you” - and his father raise his eyebrows, but fuck what Dad thought, all Sam ever knew of love came from Dean anyway. His father taught him sacrifice, in it’s ugly twisted cacophony. 

 

Dean was the opposite of what Dad was to Sam. Dean could never say no to him - never asked, only gave until Sam wasn’t sure where he began and Dean ended. They were seamless, alive, codependent as hell. He could count on Dean for anything. so. 

 

Seventeen years old and confused, Sam Winchester sits in his big brother’s impala, under the lock of Dean’s arm and breathes. He breathes in tonight’s hunt, sweat, leather, and something unmistakably Dean which makes his heart stutter, and his fingers keen. Dean’s humming a led zeppelin like usual, but one that’s been on the back of Sam’s mind for a while, and Dean knows. It’s soft and sultry, but gentle and Sam feels Dean heart like a metronome keeping time to the beat. 

 

It’s late, their father’s drunk inside a shared motel room, and Sam just couldn’t tonight, so Dean had grabbed the keys and blanket and they were sitting in a parking lot staring at the highway, cars whizzing past, blinding lights comforting.Dean had his leather jacket draped across Sam’s front and his lips on the crown of Sam’s forehead, quietly singing. 

 

_you are the sunlight in my growing - so little warmth i’ve felt before_

_it isn’t hard to feel me glowing - i watched the fire that grew so slow_

 

Sam wants to sleep it off, but Dean’s touch is like fire and he can’t ignore it. He can’t ignore the way his brother ignites him, the hard planes of his chest a sharp contrast to the bright curves that Sarah from Calculus had let him touch. He wants to understand why he can feel himself half heady just from the idea of Dean and why his hands down Sarah’s shirt in the staff bathroom felt like a cold shower instead. The kiss had been fine, he thought, it’d been messy and slightly like apple sauce, and first kisses aren’t supposed to be good anyway, but when she’d let him touch, he remembers shoving the instinct to pull back so far down because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She’d seem to like it though, the way his hands had felt, and so he’d let her have him like this because he did’t want to be rude. Everyone said it was the right thing to do.But then why did it feel so wrong? 

 

“Dean, I… I did something. With someone.”he blurts out and hears the rumble of Dean’s grin before he sees it. 

 

“Yeah? Who’s the lucky lady?” Dean’s smirking, but his eyes are magnetizing and Sam spills the truth about Sarah and how his hands didn’t stop shaking until he was back home that day, and how he didn’t know how to touch girls and kiss girls and worse, didn’t think he wanted to and oh my god he’s so fucked up isn’t he Dean probably thinks he’s a freak - 

 

“Woah Sam, Sammy, baby boy calm down.” Dean says, pulling Sam up as much as the car will let him,cradled in his strong arms, and Sam shoves his face in his brother’s bicep, trying to breathe, and Dean holds up until he can again. 

 

“There isn’t anything wrong with you Sammy, believe me. Nothing wrong at all, you’re perfectly fine.” Sam shivers with the strong conviction of Dean’s voice. Dean is looking at him with the city in his eyes and Sam wants to believe so strongly but.

 

“I don’t think I like girls Dean, It’s li-like I want to but I ju-just can’t - I don’t want her.” Sam cries and the frown in his brother’s face deepens and Dean turns down the radio for a little, and asks voice whisper sin, “What do you want Sammy?” 

 

Sam stares at Dean through stricken tears, and wonders if the answer is plain as day in the green pool of his eyes. He forces his mouth to say anything else than the truth, but he’s caught on the plush pink of Dean’s lips and what comes out instead is “I just wanna know, Dean. Kiss me please.” 

 

Dean looks like he wants to say something, but Sam’s so desperate and gone, has been since he was 13 and came home from school early to stare at the strong expanse of Dean’s back as he fucked some nameless beauty in their bed. Sam’d stumbled into the bathroom so fast after seeing what he thought was enough to last him a lifetime, his jeans tightening up just at the thought, and all that skin, freckles Sam wants to map with his tongue, constellations of desire. Sam felt the shame as he came like a teenager in his pants to the sound of his brother’s groans next door, calling someone else’s name but he liked to pretend.He wanted to believe it was just hormones, new teenager brain he couldn’t quite control yet. But four years later, Sam is still weak knee’dand he wants worse. He wants everything.

 

“Because you asked.” is all Dean says before his sharp edged fingers are cupping Sam’s jawline and his blush pink lips are touching Sam and Sam can’t breathe all over again, but for a far better reason.The matchstick in his heart makes his veins run gasoline, and suddenly everything is hot.Dean is tilting his head to get a better angle, and Sam lets himself fall open to Dean’s prayer and it’s all so holy. He’s got the answer he’s looking for, and he clashes back against Dean, fighting, like they always do. Tongues colliding, he feels the blood rush south as Dean bites his lower lip, a whine escaping his throat and Dean gasps in succession. 

 

Sam skin stings with Dean’s reaction and he has to stutter out, “I’m s-so-rry , Y-You liked that?”, his face heating up with Dean’s answering growl, “of course sammy just look at yourself. baby boy, you’rea fucking miracle. I swear.” 

 

Sam bites his lip at the endearment, and Dean’s eyes sparkle. “ you like that ? you like it when i call you baby boy, sammy? like it when i remind you who you belong to?”Dean sinks his teeth into the expanse of Sam’s neck and Sam knows he’ll trace the bruise days to come. Physical reminder of what he know knows, what he wants. 

 

They kiss like that, fast and sharp, till their lips are swollen and jeans too tight, and Dean’s hands make their way to Sam’s bird bone hips. They grind slow and dirty and Dean throws his head back as Sam’s thighs cage him in to his own personal hell. He knows he’ll never forget this. Never forget the feeling of Sam’s ribcage underneath his fingers the closer he gets to coming, never forget the way his baby brother says his name when he’s shattering in Dean’s arms, that low whine and lips bitten bloody, Dean drinks it all in, and then he’s losing it too, Sam, Sammy, Sam, Please. 

 

They sit like that, the sticky salt cooling uncomfortably in their boxers, but Sam doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to let go, wants to stay here forever. He wraps his hands around Dean’s neck, presses his forehead against Dean’s, feels the fever sex leave and Dean’s whispering, “Hope you’re not so confused anymore Sammy, it’s normal you know. You love who you love, boys, girls, neither, who gives a fuck. I sure as hell don’t. Love you all the same.” 

 

Dean’s half mumbling and Sam presses his stained lips to his again, and it feels different. He does it because he doesn’t know when he can again, and Dean looks at him with eyes so melted, warm, Sam doesn’t know what to say, but the apology sits heavy in his tongue as Dean drives them back to their real world, their own two beds. 

 

It ends before it could even start. 

 

+

 

Sam lets the memory play out on the motel ceiling as he feels Dean’s breath hit his collarbone, like a jackhammer, chipping away parts of himself he’ll never get back because now they’re Dean’s, have always been Dean’s. He wonders how much of him will be left behind in this motel bed and how much of him he’ll have with him in California. He knows it won’t be much, that the Dean will have carved out most of his heart by the time he’s at the greyhound bus because his big brother doesn’t need to be next to him to ruin him. Sam knows he isn’t escaping anything except the hunts when he’ll be at Stanford, Sam knows it’s hopeless but he runs anyway.

 

He lets himself hold Dean for this last moment, and then he’s slowly sliding himself out from under Dean’s body, from under love and whatever destruction it’d bring. The bag’s already packed, has been for weeks now, but Sam still picked the last Greyhound bus possible, even if it meant that he had to walk an extra half mile. Goodbyes aren’t something Winchesters are good at.

  
Which would explain why as Sam reaches for the backpack underneath their bed, he feels familiar fingers circle his wrist. He almost hisses at how warm it feels, his instincts kicking in, but he shakes his head and turns around ready to tell Dean to let the fuck go, but his throat runs dry at what the raw vulnerability his brother is looking at him with.Green eyes so dark, Sam knows Dean’s always been his black hole and that he’ll be leaving tonight but it won’t ever be forever. Forever doesn’t work for a Winchester, time is never a friend.but. 

 

“Stay, Sammy.” Dean burns out, and Sam wants to forget everything. but. he can’t. and Dean’s still holding on to his wrist, pleasure pressure when Sam leans down and kisses him, lightning fast and then he’s gone. 

 

Dean lies there, hands empty, staring at Sam’s shadow on the other side of the motel door, pretends he doesn’t hear the crushing sob, pretend he doesn’t feel Sam’s ghost lying next to him still, bed warm with the smell of pine and cotton. Dean just closes his eyes and chooses to forget for Sam.

 

It’s just another heartbreaker. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading !!! comments and kudos make me happy like sam makes dean happy okay :) come talk wincest with me on tumblr !!!! im intoxicatelou <3


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